Ente Junge Duck Boy PART 2
by Billie the fourth sage
Summary: Sein Wort Halten sequel. A redhead, age 13, appears in Munich early in 1923 with no memory and only fairytales laying out his past. Ed is driven to help this boy who, like him, comes from another world entirely. Ed/Alfons fic, Princess tutu crossover.
1. Ahiru

Next part after Sein Wort Halten. Set in Munich in the Fullmetal alchemist-verse.

Princess Tutu fans be warned, major gender-bend.

Characters owned mainly by Hiromu Arakawa and Ikuko Itoh.

* * *

"You're so lucky, you know."

Edward was using his pissed voice again. About the ten thousandth time he'd heard it, it still upset him a bit. _Don't be upset.. Edward isn't very good with people, but it doesn't mean he hates you._

Alfons explained it long ago, but he still felt bad seeing Edward upset. For the most part, he was aloof, uncaring, buried in books and his own little world. When he was upset, it came too often and was quite an ordeal.

Another thing was that, though the boy had been with them for a month now, they still hadn't quite warmed up to one another.

When the young adolescent redhead appeared out of nowhere a little while ago, without a name or identity or a memory to serve him, and good-natured Alfons Heiderich and not-so-heartless Edward Elric allowed him a place to stay. He helped them pay bills by working with Gracia in the flower shop, and it was the woman who wished to give him a proper name.

He didn't have a name he could remember, but they couldn't quite put their fingers on an appropriate name. Only after a week of constantly slipping on every piece of in-the-way objects in the residence, consisting of books and the like, as well as the gait Edward claimed he walked, they decided to call him Ente.

Meaning duck.

Initially, the newly named Ente might have felt insulted to have such a silly name denoting clumsiness and his supposed 'waddle', but the name's connection to him fell in so naturally that they continued to call him that.

* * *

"Ente, please bring the roses. It seems that we have a hopeless romantic." Gracia called cheerfully, one hand to her mouth in a gentle, amused grin. Ente smiled his open smile and brought the flowers over, gently handling the thorny holds while relishing the sight of such redness.

As he watched the student go off on his business with the rose in hand, looking ecstatic and ready for the world, Ente felt a strange pang of loneliness. Well, that was at least one word that fit the description.

"Ente, do you know what that reminds me of?" Gracia asked. "No, Frau Gracia." Ente said honestly, though he wished that he himself would be reminded of **something. **

"Oscar Wilde. From his story, of the nightingale and the rose. Well, I hope that boy isn't so trivial and uncaring. It's sad to think... but... oh, never mind. I'm just rambling. Sorry, Ente." Gracia said sheepishly, with a wave of a hand.

"Oh, it's alright. I want to hear about the Nightingale and the Rose. What's the story? I love stories." Ente said cheerfully. "He used to tell me stories all the time..." The carrot-haired trailed off, his open face falling into confusion.

"Oh? Who, Ente?" Gracia asked. Ente shrugged. "I don't remember. Never mind, Gracia. It's nothing." Gracia smiled at the boy, but her eyes were pensive... sad...

"Ah, I'll give you Wilde's book later on. You can read English, can't you?" Gracia asked. Ente nodded. "Ah, that's good. You're a smart boy, and I suppose you read a lot before." The older woman said with cheery relief.

"Oh no, I'm not so smart, and I don't think I'm quite the bookish type." Ente said sheepishly. "I just... have this attraction to beautiful stories." He finished wistfully. "Well then I hope you make one of your own, Ente. And when you get your memory back, I hope you'll tell me one." Gracia said with a smile.

* * *

_Die Nachtigall und die Rose__. _Ente said it naturally, though the words just flew around his head like butterflies, and his mouth was the net that caught them and set them in place. He set each word like he knew how, but he didn't really **know **how. He just knew the words, but couldn't speak the language.

If only the fates were kind enough to dump him in a place that spoke his language more. Alfons said that he knew English better than anything, so England, or America would do him most good. He didn't even know these places anyway. He didn't know Germany. He knew German, that much was certain from his ability to understand the people speaking around him in Munich, although he was neither native nor knowledgeable of the country.

Alfons was definitely a great help. Edward was quite the opposite. Any sane being would keep away from the blond, with his short temper and almost apathetic aloofness. He just didn't seem to care, Ente noticed. Like the world didn't deserve his time.

_Or at least, this world. _

He itched his head and rubbed at the spot right below his stubbornly standing carrot-colored antenna and mused, _He's like me, with that gravity-defying lock. _

Besides that, there were a lot of things the two seemed to share. They were two out of place strangers without any pasts they cared to explain. Ente hadn't gotten close enough to Edward to ask, but he knew about how he seemed to fall into silence, or change the subject when someone asked about his life.

And then there were the stories. Alchemy was their center, and Ente would hear him speak of an 'Al' Alphonse who was his little brother, and how they traveled together to places no one else seemed to have ever heard of. They were beautiful stories.

Unfortunately, the people who heard of these simply regarded them so. Stories. That was all it was. The mad rants of an imbalanced genius. People respected Edward and his brilliance, but the fact of the matter was that it was too difficult to approach him.

He was kind when he was kind, and so quiet around others. He always had that dream-like look on his face. It was too calm, too far off for a person. That was why Ente found it a blessing to have Edward lose his temper on him.

It seemed to be a regularly occurring thing, and their jabs and jibes completed the ordinary day in the household. They just didn't agree with each other, and with the few opinions they shared, neither would admit defeat and stubbornly hold their ground.

On some days, it was about the food. Others, about their things. But most of all, it was Ente's view on Edward's connection with anyone else.

BAD.

* * *

"Cut it out! She was being nice!"

"She was a floozy. Believe me, when a woman offers you a drink, she's not being nice."

"It was GRAPE JUICE."

"She was convinced it was wine! Do you have any idea what that says about her mental capacity?"

"Ugh, you're hopeless."

Walking home was bearable enough with the sounds of rumbling trucks and the talks of various Germans drowning out their argument, but Edward felt his luck downed by the fact that he could still hear his (annoyingly shrill, and, Ed commented, girly) voice.

Almost more annoying was the fact that he knew that Ed knew that he was right. His pride didn't allow that to be known, of course, but why did the guy have to butt in anyway?

Of course, the more sensible, Al-ish half of Edward Elric, which he probably received from his little brother, wanted to fight less with the redhead, and talk more. Talk about stories.

It was a bit strange for Edward to say that, think that, or even have that kind of thought drift by his head like plastic bags on the polluted wind. It was a thought, which found its roots the first time Ente and he had had a decent conversation.

"Tell me your stories." Was what he had said. Of course, he had probably heard it when Edward was recounting these things to Alfons, and he remembered the same reaction Alfons had to these things that were told to him. Of course, the blond boy humored him, but Edward knew that he, like all people, found it hard to take him seriously.

The strange part was that, when Ente had asked, he looked quite serious. He really wanted to know. He really wanted to hear what he had to say. Being presented with that scenario made Edward pretty tense. In the end, he got angry and argued that they weren't just stories, and why should he care anyway? Ente argued back, not to be insulted, and things just went on from there.

Edward found some small comfort knowing that Ente was like him. The two of them were unlike the rest. It was cruel of him to think so, but Ed reveled in the fact that he had another outcast to share his thoughts with. It might have worked better if he actually shared his thoughts with the duck boy, but well, Ed was Ed.

And now Ed was pissed. He couldn't find Ente anywhere. His mind drifted off for just a moment, and suddenly, the young redhead was nowhere to be seen. This was not the best position to be in, in a place like Munich, especially not with the unrest.

Recent events made it so that children scarcely played in the streets, and the cobblestones of Munich were blackened by gunpowder and various things from the recent war.

Ente, only a boy of fourteen, as far as Ed could tell, wasn't safe anywhere without the blond. "Ente!! Hey, Duck! Where the hell did you go?" He turned and turned but caught no glimpse of the carrot hair, and that was when Edward Elric began to panic.

Not good not good not-

"Edward!! Over here!" Ed ran back to the place they'd passed, and found Ente stopped over at the side of the street, looking frustrated and irate.

"What the hell, you idiot?! I've been looking all over for you!" Said Edward angrily. Ente looked up at him, the boy's serious face making Ed falter.

"The book. Someone knocked me down and it got wet." Ente said simply, brows furrowed uncharacteristically as he wiped and brushed grime and dirt from the little hardback as graying stains began to spread on the brown cover.

It was then that it occurred to Ed how similar Ente looked to Al. With the round face and big eyes (blue, unlike the Elric gold) and that open smile, Ente almost mirrored Alphonse better than Alfons did, and that was saying something.

It hurt.

"Don't do that, moron. It's not safe to straggle on the street. What book is that anyway?" Edward wondered, picking up one of the two grocery bags Ente was carrying previously. The redhead picked up the other and held the book close.

"The Happy Prince and other stories. Gracia lent it to me. I didn't know she had English books, but this one was pretty old, she told me."

Edward quirked and eyebrow but said nothing on the topic. They made their way home without further event, but the expression on Ente's face earlier got Ed thinking.

"Hey, Ed, are you okay? It looks like you could crack nuts with those furrows on your brow." Alfons stated.

Edward looked up. "Ah, nothing." The blond said, his expression softening. Alfons didn't want to buy it, but he left it at that.

The next few days, Ente was reading the same book with its simple brown cover and yellowed, stained pages, always found in odd corners of the house.

* * *

"Never thought you were such an avid, reader, Ente." Alfons said, looking curiously at the old book. "I'm not very good." Ente said sheepishly. "I read slow, so I can take time to understand the story. I'm not very smart."

"You're smart enough, Bübchen, to appreciate the story." Alfons said, grinning. "Stop calling me that, Alfons! I'm not such a child." Ente muttered, pouting.

Alfons pressed his point by pinching one of Ente's freckled cheeks. "Hah, but your face says different. Anyway, I'll just leave you to your reading." Alfons said quickly, before Ente could retaliate. He glanced once more at the redhead before leaving the room.

* * *

Alfons imagined, at some point, that Ente might have been like a mini-Edward, with his short temper and irate ways, but generally kindly personality. It was endearing to think that Ed might have been like that before Alfons met him.

Sadly, though Ed trusted him most, supposedly, the blond Elric kept so much away. He was so isolate that Alfons felt like he was being pushed away, away from this young man that he respected, that he was so curious about.

Ed was shrouded in the mystery of what Alfons couldn't figure out, and by the stories Ed told, he didn't think Ed would break the tale any time soon.

At some point, the rocket scientist almost believed him. But the fantasies that Ed spun and believed were a luxury that Alfons could not afford.

He had to focus on reality, on THIS world, not on some childish ideals. He didn't have much time anymore...

Ente started, upon hearing hacking coughs from the other room. He snuck to the doorpost and saw Alfons stooped over, coughing into his sleeve in such a way so that no one would hear.

_Too late for that. _Ente thought.

He stopped after a little bit, wiping his face and getting up again, picking up dropped papers.

Ente wanted to go in and help, but by the look on Alfons' face, he probably didn't want to see anyone yet.

Ente was scared, scared that all he had now was about to crumble like his unattainable memory.

* * *

So cookies for whoever guesses who our mystery redhead is 8D

In any case, hope for reviews. Oh man, late already? Gotta sleep, school tomorrow. This one's gonna have more chapters soon.

EDIT: Thanks, irenia, for the correction. 8D


	2. Once upon a time

Hey there 8D For those paying attention, I'm going to divide the story depending on the POVs of the important characters, so it won't all be here. Just for those who will be able to keep up xD

Characters owned by Hiromu Arakawa and the character design crew of FMA, and to Ikuko Itoh.

Here's chapter two.

It's about a giant

* * *

"It's about a giant." The redhead explained, as Alfons gathered the blueprints laying helter-skelter, lining the living room floor like a pseudo-carpet of graph-lined blue.

"He was unkind, and when he chased children away from his garden, an endless winter came." Ente continued, watching the older blond only half-listening to what the younger was saying.

_At least he makes an effort._

"That's pretty symbolic." Alfons commented, laying the papers meticulously. "How do **you **see it, Alfons?" Asked Ente. "I think it means that children give the warmth the world needs. That's what I think." Alfons responded cheerfully.

Above their heads, a crash sounded atop the second-floor-boards. "Although Ed might beg to differ." Ente muttered, sighing. Alfons smiled sheepishly. "I'd better see what's up."

The blond climbed the steps and found the pony-tailed Elric sprawled on the floor, books scattered comically all over him.

"Ed, you okay?" Alfons said, worriedly enough, but not quite enough to hide his amusement. "Peachy." Came the sharp, dry-wit reply from the other.

"What happened?" Alfons asked curiously, lending Ed a hand. "My leg gave." Ed said, using the banister as support as he raised his left foot, swinging it over the wood and rolling up his pant leg, examining the solid material that held his fake leg together.

Alfons couldn't help but stare. Edward was pretty sensitive about the topic of his leg, and his arm for that matter, when the subject arose. Alfons, out of respect for his friend's privacy, didn't see much of it, but seeing the well-made artificial limb now put him in awe of its advancement, and of the possibilities it could bring if Ed would let people know.

It was Ed's father Hoenheim that created the limbs. They worked just like real ones, and although limited, they very well exceeded most advances in that day and age. Most of the time, Alfons guessed that Edward inherited his extremely wide-spanned knowledge from his father. When Hoenheim Van Hoenheim left Ed with Heiderich, with very little reason as to why, Alfons respected him greatly in the short time he'd known him. Heiderich wondered where he had gone.

"Hey, Alfons, you okay there?" Ed wondered aloud, snapping the platinum blond from his reverie. "Ah, jah. Yeah, I'm fine. It's just..." Alfons looked down at the leg meaningfully. "It's interesting, that's all." He said finally.

"Yeah, that's one way to put it." Edward said quietly, with a mix of light aloofness laced with the smallest hint of depression in the tone. Edward picked up the rest of his books and walked toward his room. "Hey, Ed." Alfons said suddenly.

Ed looked at the other questioningly. "If you ever need to talk..." Alfons continued. "Yeah, don't worry about it." Ed said. "No, seriously, Edward. Don't try to keep it from me. I'm your friend, okay? You can trust me." Alfons said seriously.

Edward smiled and closed the door behind him. "I truly hope so, Alfons."

* * *

"I had a dream." Ente said. Edward looked up from his breakfast curiously. Alfons was upstairs fixing a few things while the other two ate. "It was in a lake." Ente continued, speaking to no one in particular, with an unreadable, dream-like expression on his face.

"There was a man waiting there. But... he was alone. The one he was waiting for never came. He was a writer, and he was writing stories for people. And he..." Ente paused, slowly chewing the piece in his mouth with nary a care.

"He was waiting for a duck. A duck that was a girl. A girl that was a princess." The last words started Ed, seeing such a far-off expression on the young boy's face. He was...

_In another world entirely. _

"You home, Ed. It was... Risembool, wasn't it?" Ente said suddenly, looking up at the blond with grave curiosity. "Yeah. It was in the country of Amestris." Ed said, not meeting the redhead's deep blue eyes. Ed had mentioned it once before, but he was surprised that the duck boy remembered it.

"You had a country... yeah... We just... had a town... It was called Golden Crown. It was Golden Crown Town. Kinkan." Ente said slowly, as if his mind needed time to process these little bits of information loosened from his locked mind.

"I remember! It was Kinkan town! It had these walls, and outside was a forest." Ente went on, talking once again as if Ed wasn't there.

"There were shops, and there were animals, and there was an arts school, and there were..."

_Ravens..._

Ente seized suddenly, slipping off his chair. "Ente! Hey, what the hell-Ente! Hang in there! Alfons!!" Edward was quick to catch him before the boy fell on the hard wood, but now he had a twitching redhead waving his arms in violent motions Edward did well to dodge.

* * *

Alfons rushed them to the nearby clinic, running rather than driving, with Ed in the lead, carrying the young duck boy. Ed was surprised how light Ente was. Sure, Ed knew he was small and pretty thin, but in his arms, Ente seemed almost brittle, like a small animal in the hands of a human. Just like that, her bones seemed to be in danger of shattering with too much pressure.

_No time to think about that now; I've gotta get him there fast!_ Thought Edward, practically kicking the door down when he got to the medical clinic.

* * *

_Once upon a time, there was a man in love. Once upon a time, there was a woman in love. They were in love with each other, but soon realized that they could not __**love**__ each other. They realized their foolishness and kept a bond of friendship, but love took them on a different path. For them, love chose the unlikeliest of people. _

_Love is, and always will be, a tricky fiend. _

...

_Once upon a time, there was a prince who lost his heart. Once upon a time, there was a princess who lost her memory. Once upon a time, there was a knight who lost his life. Once upon a time, there was a girl who lost her freedom._

* * *

"Awake, huh?" Ente could vaguely catch Edward's voice drifting over him like the haze that appeared before his eyes, and he turned his head to the flash of deep gold that was Edward's ponytail. Ente wanted to make a witty remark, a good retort, but it hurt too much to think.

"Edward..." Said he weakly. "Yeah, Duck boy?" Ed said.

"Tell me a story about... Al..." Said the boy with an odd, gentle grin.

Edward was livid, but to Ente, he didn't let it show. Why would he want to hear about Al? Half the time, he wasn't supposed to exist, right? So why-

Ed sighed. "Well... He was a good kid. He didn't like fighting; he was a pacifist. Usually I thought it best to call him a wimp, but when he can fight he can fight."

Ente smiled a drugged, out-of-focus smile. "And I bet he held his temper better than you." "Yeah, he sure did." Ed responded, his own smile a sad one.

"How long have I been out?" Ente said, suddenly clearer as he snapped to focus. "A few hours. Alfons had to check on the house; we hurried so fast that we might have forgotten to lock it. You're way too much trouble." Ed sighed.

"Yeah well, the ravens..." Ente stopped, trying to make sense of his own words. "Ah, nothing."

Edward looked at the boy questioningly, but didn't press the subject. The duck boy probably wasn't too coherent anyway, so it wouldn't make much difference.

"Anyway, tell me about your world, and I'll tell you about mine." The tone was playful, like that of a child with a secret and exchanging it for another, in the concept of equivalent exchange and in the innocence of a youth's yet untainted mind. This voice wasn't Ente's, but it most certainly was. That... didn't make sense...

Ed stared at the boy, who smiled an open smile, whose innocent grin gave light to some sort of darkness, something unknown of the boy. Edward frowned. What in the-

"Edward! How is he?" Alfons entered, coat hanging from one arm as he surveyed the boy on the clinically white sheets, still holding the open smile. "I'm fine, Alfons. Where's my book?"

Alfons grimaced, relief etching itself into his features. "I thought you might ask that. You really have a one-track mind, Ente." He handed him the old book and the two older males watched the boy dive back in, to his own story. To his own world.

* * *

The traveler watched the smoke rising from the chimneys and the gray of the cobblestone from the hilltop he stood, surveying the city he was to enter. Munich, it was called. Munich...

* * *

"Hey, Ed, can you check on Ente for me? I think he's upstairs. He shouldn't be alone too long, not since he's just gotten discharged." Alfons called. Edward snapped his book closed and frowned. "That kid. A waste of money and space."

"Oh come on, Ed, he helps. And the two of you liven up the house, at least." Alfons said. "Don't treat us like entertainment, Alfons." Ed muttered, climbing the wood steps.

When he got to the second floor, Ed spotted Ente sitting under the window. "It says here that God welcomes the goodhearted, no matter who they are. Do you believe that Ed?" Ente said suddenly, curiously.

"I don't believe in God." Edward informed, looking over Ente's head and lively antenna out the window. "I don't know a God. The term is too generic, and people twist it too much. Playing god, having god-complexes... I don't know the difference anymore. I don't like using that term." Ente said.

"The term?"

"I prefer the unknown loving one. Or something to that effect. I don't want a god that controls our lives, dictates our future, and puts our destiny in shambles. What if this god wanted to make a tragedy out of life? How about you, Ed? What would you do if that ever happened?" Ente turned to him with a face etched in question, wanting an answer with that fierce look.

Ed stared. Then, reaching out his left hand, he covered Ente's forehead. "Are you running a fever, or did you hit your head?"

"Edward!!" Ente whined, pouting in such a way that reminded Ed of Al.

"Ah- Well... I'd probably fight back if I could." Ed said uncertainly. "Probably? You'd be too stubborn to let anyone dictate your life, Ed. You wouldn't let them..." Ente declared, almost proudly.

Edward couldn't help but smile. "You moron." He muttered, ruffling the boy's hair like duck feathers. Surprisingly, the 'moron' comment only brought a smile in place of the usual irritated retort.

"When did you become so philosophical?" Edward wondered aloud. Ente shrugged. "It's the stories. I like the stories. They make me feel just right. I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be reading this slowly, but I don't want the story to end. I'm scared that I'll have to go back if that happens."

"Go back?" Edward looked questioning.

"Go back... to reality." Ente finished, peeking over his book with an unfathomable look in his eyes, one of some worry, some fear, and some deep thought.

"Ente... You live in reality. It's not good to stray from that, or else you'll be deluded into thinking about happy endings where there are none." Edward frowned and looked at the boy seriously. "I know, Ed. I know that I'm not the one who's going to get a happy ending. I never do." Ente whispered, looking down.

Edward, seeing Ente's broken face, regretted all he'd said, wishing he could take it back. How could he say that to a kid? Just because he had long ago let go of his childhood at age eleven didn't mean that the redheaded thirteen-year old before him grew the same way.

In fact, if Ed could guess, the amnesia probably made it so that Ente was more of a child than anyone could imagine. Just because the kid knew things and talked the way he did didn't mean that he had already fully grasped reality. Even Ed hadn't gone quite that far.

But the way Ente talked... it was like he was in another world entirely.

_Or from one..._

* * *

The hall was lively that day, although as compared to nighttime, when the drinkers came to the beerhouse sanctuary, it wasn't quite so filled up. It wasn't exactly the Bürgerbräukeller, but it had its own quaint little charm to the folks that gathered in its wood-table laid halls.

Two men sat in a corner of one of the long tables, each with their own notes to write down, and their simple clothing and many papers revealed them scholars, or something of the like.

Polizeibeamte Hughes observed the newcomers with some interest, having never seen them in Munich before. The past few months were void of new news, so the officer merely shrugged to himself and went over, to make conversation and possibly welcome them to Munich, or at least to the town.

"Guten Tag. Have you just arrived in Munich?" He greeted. The one with glasses looked up first, pushing them up the bridge of his nose in a manner befitting a scholar.

"Ja, we've traveled a long way, Beamter. We came here to research some of Munich's well known, with their claims and such. Or at least I did." The glasses-man gave his companion a pointed look. The other didn't even look up, but somehow Hughes guessed that he knew just what the other meant, but he just didn't care.

"Are you scholars?" Asked Hughes. "I'm a Genealogist, actually." The man with glasses and purple-black hair stood and held out his hand. "Autor Verfassen(1), at your service." Hughes took it. "Maes Hughes. By the way, your name..."

"It's redundant, I know. It was by some twist of fate that I ended up with this last name. Originally it was only Autor, but I was adopted into a family that believed it a fancy, so there." Autor shook his head.

"Ah. How about you, Herr..." Hughes directed his statement to the other man, with dark hair very near the color of oak leaf and face passive. He looked up, but said nothing.

"His name is Fakir. Fakir Verfassen. We are distant relatives. He is merely here to help me with my research." Autor responded. Hughes was about to speak, but Autor cut him off. "Don't try to make conversation with him; he's been mute for a good year now."

"Mute? Was it an accident?"

"Oh, no. It was by choice, actually. An experience, moreover, don't try to ask, Herr Hughes, it's tactless to." Hughes was taken aback, but he delved no further on the subject.

"He is a writer, living the Verfassen name." Autor added.

"I see. Well, good day to you both. I'd better be getting back." Hughes gave them a nod and returned to his station, somewhat curious about the mute Verfassen.

* * *

**NOTES: **

Bürgerbräukeller: The largest grand beer hall in Munich, the setting for the 1923 Beer hall Putsch.

Polizeibeamte: Police Officer

Guten Tag: Good Day (a greeting)

Beamter: Officer

(1) Autor: Author, Verfassen: Author/Writer (Redundant name)

Okay, so it wasn't really about giants xD

But anyway, I'm not German, so for those who know better than me, tell me if I'm doing anything wrong. I'm just experimenting with this particular theme to bind the characters in a relation. In any case, I hope you enjoyed 8D

Review please...


	3. Ravens, Drink, and Dreams

Next chapter 8D On an FMA note, nothing much happens here, but Ed and Alfons' relationship continues in the next chapter. Meantime, Ente's getting closer to the truth.

Standard disclaimers apply, and if I owned Princess Tutu there'd be a modernized version and a better manga.

* * *

Edward getting drunk off his proverbial ass was a common problem since February, marking his legality as a drinker. Even high-tolerance Alfons had yet to measure up enough patience for the Elric coming home miles away from sober.

Amazingly, it was Ente with the higher tolerance for this, taking the initiative to bring, else drag Ed onto the couch and let him sleep off the alcohol in his system.

Then at odd hours of the night, Alfons would wake up, come down the stairs and find that Ente was still sitting by Edward, looking contemplative as Ed rolled in and out of the couch cushions, Ente rolling him back when he was in danger of falling.

It was at these times that Alfons felt a bit spiteful of the younger boy. It was a cruel thing, he knew, and Heiderich banished these thoughts the second they came, but it seemed quite unfair that this stranger could seem to understand Edward so much better.

Yeah, so like some little playground boy, Alfons was feeling jealous. Of a kid. A good five to six years younger than him.

Why?

Well, one reason could be that Alfons Heiderich had been spending the good of a year trying to figure his friend out. His spun tales of other worlds and his insistence of their reality only confused him. As compared to Ente, he was an idiot. Ente seemed to know things, and he and Edward had begun to share something that he felt that he was being excluded from.

"_Verdammt_, I really shouldn't think about this." Alfons cast a glance at the living room and saw Ente tugging at Edward's strange antenna hair, and couldn't help smiling.

_What am I worried about? Ente is a benefit here. In the long run, it'll all be well.

* * *

  
_

"Hey, Ed. Alfons is worried about you, you know? You get drunk off your idiot ass every night and that could only come from depression. Hell, the way you're doing it is affecting everyone around you, you stubborn mule."

Ente knew that his words weren't penetrating the deep liquor-induced slumber Ed was in, but he felt like berating the Elric in his presence and reveled in the fact that he wasn't getting beat up for it.

"Hey, Ed, tell me a story."

Of course, he received no reply. "Okay then... I'll tell you a story..." Ente said, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes half-lidded and his smile so sad.

"Once upon a time, there was a duck. The duck had no name, no identity, no family. The duck was of no one. The duck was alone.

"At night the duck would wander, finding the place it belonged to, but only succeeding in feeling lonelier, seeing all those happy people, dancing around the festival fire. The duck wanted to dance too.

"At the edge of the duck's world, there was a god man, a man who died."

"He gave the duck a name. He gave the duck a life. He gave the duck hope.

"But the hope was false, you know. The duck, which feared a life of nothing, began fearing a death. The duck feared a death of light and nothingness. The god man didn't give it hope. It only gave it a tragedy.

"But you know... The duck didn't want to be alone, Edward."

Ente breathed the cold night air and touched the place below his collar, the place where he thought he felt something. Something warm, something beating. Like a heart.

"How strange." Ente smiled ironically and felt his chest for a heartbeat, where there was...

"The duck didn't want to be alone..."

None...

* * *

"Ente, could you hand me the Erikas?" "Oh, ok." Ente handed her the flowers, glancing every other second down the road and up, looking tense, curious, and very fidgety.

"Ente, they'll definitely be back soon, so don't worry so much." Gracia admonished gently, smiling her very Gracia smile. Ente laughed. "You're right. I suppose I'm just really bored, Frau Gracia."

"I'm glad you're here though. Those idiots need a motherly person like you."

Gracia stopped and stared. "A mother?" The thought had occurred to her before, but somehow the idea in a time and world like the one she lived in seemed cruel. The idea of giving birth to a child into post-war Munich was almost sinful to her.

"I don't want to be a mother if it'll just bring my child sorrow, Ente. Don't use that word so loosely." Gracia was surprised at how cold she sounded. Ente looked pale.

"I'm sorry... I just.... since you handle us so well, you're like a mother to us and I thought that before... Sorry..." Ente stuttered.

Gracia's annoyance with the duck boy faltered. Of course, Ente didn't **know** his family, and this was probably some way for him to make up for it. Oftentimes, Gracia could hear it in his voice. He was a lonely boy, and being with her, and Edward, and Alfons made him smile those open smiles, which Gracia doubted would come easily without the variables involved.

"It's alright. Here, you keep watch over the shop for a while. I need to buy something for tonight to celebrate Edward and Alfons' first exhibition of their rocket designs." Gracia left everything of importance to Ente, and soon she was gone at the turn of the corner.

In that time, Ente smiled. It wasn't the open smile he usually gave to his little pseudo-family. It was the ironic smile that no one had yet seen. "Idiot, she's just going out shopping. It's not like this hasn't happened before. And Ed and Alfons are going to be back tonight, so I really shouldn't worry..."

The self-inspired prep talk didn't help any, but soon, a distraction did.

A man was standing on the other street, looking at the flower shop with some reserved interest that Ente couldn't place.

He crossed the cobblestones and stopped, right in front of Ente, only a few flower vases in between them. Ente spoke. "Hello there, sir. Is there anything you would like to purchase?"

The man looked down, left and right, as if only noticing the flowers now.

He stood there for almost a minute, and by then, Ente was feeling slightly unnerved. "Flowers for a friend, maybe? Someone who's caught your eye? Or maybe a relative..." He knew he was babbling, but there was something about this man....

The man didn't even speak. He looked at Ente with his strange dark green eyes, the color of oak leaf.

_Find the oak tree. _

Ente blinked away the random thought, and watched as the man took out what looked like a slate, and chalk. He began writing, and fro a brief moment, Ente finally understood.

He was mute.

The words written on the slate had some sort of strange elegance to it, and the German was perfect, although Ente had to take them one at a time. He spoke German, of course, but reading was another matter, as he had only read English books recently (well, English **book**, but the choice wasn't exactly in a wide range) and didn't know his own span of knowledge.

Surprisingly, after the first few words, the rest of the words began making sense to him as a whole, as sentences, as proper German. This was actually even better than speaking it.

"Ah, no, the owner of the shop is away right now. Just buying things. And... my name?" Ente paused. "Um, you can call me... I mean, my name is..." The more logical part of Ente telling him that the man couldn't possibly call him by anything since he was mute made the sentence trail off.

"Ente. My name is Ente." He sighed. The man looked curious, but in a deeper sense that caught Ente's attention. The man raised an eyebrow and wrote on the newly erased slate. There he wrote two words, one in German and another English.

_**Ente**_

_**Duck**_

_**?**_

Ente somehow felt the slightest bit annoyed. "It's a given name. I don't have my own so..." He cut off, slightly miffed that he'd just revealed that fact to a total stranger. "Well, since I told you my name, you have to tell me yours." Ente said, never to admit that he sounded smug.

The man seemed slightly amused by this behavior, and after brushing off chalk, began writing on the slate again.

_**Fakir Verfassen**_

Ente raised an eyebrow, suddenly feeling a strange rush upon reading the name in white on the black of the slate.

"Fakir... Um, Fakir Verfassen? Writer? Are you a writer?" Ente wondered curiously.

Fakir seemed to smile for a moment, before returning to a sober expression and nodding. "I used to know someone who was a writer... I think... I don't remember." Ente said sheepishly, knocking himself on the head pointedly.

Fakir looked surprised, and began writing again in his elegant German.

_**You don't remember?**_

"I have amnesia. I'm sorry; I must be taking up your time. I should really be running the shop till Gracia gets back, and I shouldn't... um, talk to strangers... I'm sorry." Ente couldn't help feel the pressure of anxiety pushing up his chest as he stuttered his apologies.

Fakir's eyes widened as he erased the slate and wrote something new in a hurried, less clean fashion, but this writing, Ente liked better than anything else the man had said so far.

_**I know you now, and you know me, so we're no longer strangers. **_

And also...

_**Friends?**_

Ente balked for a moment, his face showing surprise. The man looked at him intensely and smiled, a calming, gentle smile that Ente recognized, but couldn't place.

It wasn't at all a bad thing. Ente smiled back, nodding. It just felt so natural. This Fakir person, whoever he was, regardless of his age, (a little older than Alfons, if Ente could guess) made Ente feel very comfortable opening up.

"Oh, right, do you live nearby?" Ente asked. Fakir shook his head. "Ah, um... Are you new in town, then?" He nodded.

"Ah! So you'll need a place to stay! No wait, I don't know a place to stay... Or maybe I do- Wait, I'm babbling again, uh..." Ente took this moment to gather, and consequently slap himself before finally speaking coherently.

"Sorry... Can I just see you soon?"

Fakir nodded and tucked the slate under his arm. Although it was on good terms that they parted, Ente felt an unusual sadness watching him go. He knew it had something to do with his memory, but he just couldn't grasp it, not even when the oak-haired man turned the corner on the next street and disappeared from view.

* * *

When the engine of the car roared into the sidewalk, Ente practically jumped out of the couch and opened the door just as Ed looked as though he was about to knock.

"Oh, hey Ente-"

The two older males were stopped in their tracks by a hug that covered them both as far as Ente's short arms could go, which was enough to make the two look down at the redhead, his head only to their chests but the little carrot antenna giving allowance.

Ed looked at Alfons and their faces practically melted into warm, slightly sad smiles, while Edward rubbed the duck boy's head and Alfons returned the hug.

Ente looked up, his face in a stoic line, his eyes tired. "I had a bad dream. Gracia said I could sleep on the couch before dinner so I wouldn't have to be too far away, but I could still see it." His voice was uneven, cracking with hints of sobs every so often.

Ed frowned, his eyes staring over Ente's head with a different sort of concentration, the kind of look Alfons saw in Ed when he was angry, but could do nothing. Then his expression softened and he faced Ente with a small smile. "Come on, you can stay with me tonight, how does that sound?"

Ente rubbed his eyes and looked up at Alfons, the boy's expression looking for some sort of go-ahead or permission. Alfons hoped he didn't betray any subtle spite.

He smiled at Ente gently, and the boy nodded.

* * *

Later on, Alfons checked the room late in the evening and saw an amusing sight; Edward had hogged most of the bed save for the edge where Ente was perched precariously between a fold in the sheets and the empty space over the floor. Although that was the comical scene that greeted Alfons, he could see that both sleeping faces were at peace, and for the first time, without nightmares to keep them so tense in the day.

He smiled. The older blonde walked slowly, making only the slightest creaks in the floorboards, and with a small push, tucked Ente into the sheets safely, a little bit farther from the edge, and immediately, Ente reached out and grabbed Alfons' sleeve.

Alfons carefully pried his hand away, but in doing so, heard Ente muttering in his sleep, smiling as he did so. "You're dancing... so nice... Rue..." And then the redhead rolled over, snuggling into Edward's back.

Alfons sighed. Whoever this Rue was must have had something to do with Ente in earlier years. He resigned himself to write that down, and as he left, he vaguely heard Ente muttering something about cold food.

* * *

_**Al!!!!**_

_**Brother!!!!!!**_

_The floor was slippery. It was hard to concentrate on anything, with everything flashing in his head. The knowledge. It filled his head like an overflowing pail, pounding so much that he couldn't get a hold of his little brother, even if he heard Al calling to him._

_**Brother!!!**_

_**The ravens...

* * *

  
**_

Ed started out of sleep, the images of darkness and claws trickling out of his mind like the sweat down his face. He had had the same dream over and over, but the end wasn't... It was different...

Ed hopelessly tried to remember what exactly made that dream different from all the others, but he couldn't get a handle on it.

In the end, the images were swept cleanly away, and all he could know was that Ente had almost rolled off the bed, murmuring something about some nonsense character named Prince Siegfried.

* * *

END chapter

Anyyyway so nothing much happens. It won't stop though, you can count on that.

Read review, and I hope you enjoy! Special requests and suggestions are welcome.


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